Just so we’re clear upfront – I’m going to be talking a lot about blood here, and how sexy it is. I don’t get off on hurting people, not really, not much, but blood… Blood is intense. Blood is personal, and beautiful, and full of life. Blood holds the codes to the body. Playing with blood in a sexual context touches all kinds of taboos and primal lusts, which is why, when I felt the need to reclaim Harold, we went for blood play.

I’m blaming my friend C. P. Foster, because of some posts she’s written lately about a scene involving blood. The ideas so tickled my imagination that I’ve been waiting for just the right opportunity to explore blood. Last night Harold and I were in a hotel to work on a project, so it seemed like a fine chance for some edge play.

We’ve played with blood before. Pretty much any time I’m menstruating is an excuse to get messy. It’s “free” blood – no pain required, but plenty of visual potential. I like the way blood looks, all shimmering droplets. I’m a little bit afraid of blood, of how much I like it, afraid of the darkness inside me that revels in blood. I’m afraid of other people’s blood contaminating me with their disease, but not of Harold. I know his body and his habits like I know my own. I know that he will take pain for my pleasure. So we play with blood.

Years ago Harold bought scalpels for all his loved ones. Some people thought it an odd gift for a person who has been known to cut from time to time, but it’s perfect. Another old friend of mine once said, “The pen is mightier than the sword, but I prefer the scalpel.” Precise detailed cutting is so much better in these cases. For precise cuts with minimal pain, disposable scalpel blades are the way to go.

Last night, Harold presented his ass. I very carefully and artistically carved three hearts across both cheeks. Immediately they started to bead and drip. Seeing that just makes me well up with love. His blood, freely given, is so gorgeous. But I wanted more.

I was afraid of getting blood on the sheets, so I took him into the bathroom and had him stand in the shower. I caned him, the supple slender rod spraying drops of blood in all directions. I stared at the spatters of blood on the white walls. I swung again, feeling a fine mist of his blood settle on my face. I felt wild with lust. I caned him until his ass was a mess of blood and welts. I kissed him.

We turned on the shower to wash up. Harold bent me over and started fucking me. It is my time of the month, so my blood was coming out as Harold’s cock pulled back and then blood was spurting onto my lower back as he thrusted in, mixing with water and flowing down around us. The whole bottom of the tub was bloody. It was amazing. Under different circumstances I might have been appalled, but it was simply incredible.

Later, cleaning spots of blood off of the ceiling and the toilet, I imagined crime scene investigations. Blood can tell us so much. This was so little blood comparatively, but we made an impressive mess of it. We are the reason people are afraid to stay in hotels.

I feel like we made an offering. We gave our blood, mixed our blood in the crucible of fucking. Blood is the code of life, sex is the dance of life, and all together we are living. Isn’t it marvelous? Blood, life, sex. I’m still basking in the afterglow.

I meet a lot of fascinating people in my line of work, but even so, sometimes a person really stands out. Meet Xochiquetzal Duti Odinsdottir. She runs a website, sacredprofanity.com, where she talks about kink, magic, sexwork, leather, ordeals, and taboo in ways that make my heart melt. I heard her give a presentation in San Francisco last month and I think she is one of the best presenters I’ve ever seen. Tears streamed down my face while Xochiquetzal Duti spoke truths to my soul. She is a powerful priestess.

Sacred sexuality is deeply important to my own practice, but I had never before considered kink, pain, and power dynamics as potential for sacrifice, both to the divine and to the betterment of the world. Xochiquetzal Duti changed forever the way I view sex by giving me permission to fully actualize the shadow side of my sexuality. I had the opportunity to speak with her in person and have been emailing. I asked her to answer a few questions and here are her answers for all of you…

What do you mean by sacred and profane and how do those concepts shape your sexuality?

I mean those things that we can’t seem to do without, the materials we can’t seem to leave alone, that define us; our identities, our positions within structures, our way of looking at ourselves and where we stand. Sacred and profane come together in one beautiful word; taboo. Together those two words mean and describe the space I try to create within my sexuality. The things that we hold sacred, how can I corrupt them? Make them profane? Once I’ve accomplished that, how can I make them holy again? What has changed about them in their profane state to take away their sacredness? What change has it caused in me to do that?

Your spirituality is deeply intertwined with your sexuality. Do you believe that to be true for everyone?

I don’t. I think that we all have the capability to intertwine the two, and that we experience these things, but we lack the terminology to explain what we’re experiencing. It takes someone willing to delve deeper into those moments of attempted integration; of joining all our disparate parts of self, into Self. We can all achieve it to some degree, but more importantly, I think we need to work to bring all of our facets in our lives; our views of self as parents, friends, coworkers, etc. need to come together to be a whole person.

What are the benefits of a spiritual sex life?

The biggest benefit to me has been an ability to live an authentic life. I don’t have to ‘hide’ facets of who I am, I just am and if the person has issues with that, I will do what I can to answer their questions but that doesn’t detract from me being who I am meant to be. I live fully and completely in the knowledge that all parts of me see the light of day, I lose the shame that we’re expected to have around our desires, it’s very liberating.

You view BDSM as an ordeal practice. Please explain how you use the energy created through consensual sexual pain.

It’s dependent on what areas my brain and my heart lead me to. At times, the scene is where the energy is directed; if the scene is playing to some abuse that is systemic, then the energy I create does two things, maintains the connection with the top or bottom, and goes toward ending that issue. For example, doing a heavy abuse scene, domestic or otherwise, will lead me to use energy and intent to feed the idea of ridding the world of those issues, that today I be the only one that suffers this slap to the face and thus save that fate from a child struggling with alcoholic parents. So much of what I think about and struggle with is how ugly this world has been made by human hands. So many issues that we created because of our need to hold onto those sacred cows of power and prestige, the need to subjugate another so that we have pedestals to stand on, that we become blind to the suffering of the people we stand on. I use the energy of consensual sexual pain, to try and do what I can, to end the very issues I deal with on a daily basis; most of them are based in marginalization and lack of recognition of one another’s basic humanity.

What projects you are currently working on and where people can contact you or get more information?

My most current writing projects are two essays in two different anthologies, one for the Morrighan and the other for Odin, both are currently in the gathering the works phase, so I don’t know when they are expected to reach publication. I have articles that I write for Kink-E-Zine (http://kink-e-zine.com) and on my website, SacredProfanity.com.

The other non-writing project that I am currently investing time and energy into are the Pagans of Color Hospitality Suite for Pantheacon 2013 (and beyond?) and that can be found by this link.

To contact me, feel free to email me at xochiquetzal.duti@sacredprofanity.com and let me know that you found me through Whole Sex Life and I will do my best to respond within 24-48 hours of receiving the email. I offer divination and ritual creation/counseling but am not a certified counselor so I cannot venture into those areas but I am a really good ear for spiritual talk and rabble-rousing.

May in my neck of the woods means lots and lots of mud. It’s a surer sign of spring than flowers. Flowers are a sign of burgeoning fertility to be sure, but I always get an intense urge to fuck in the mud. I have fantasies about ancient pagan rites of rutting in the fields to make the crops grow stronger, or to ask the Gods to bless our lands. Mud is like the blood of the earth and I want to be wild in it. I want to fuck like animals.

The problem with the Cascade Foothills is that it’s still pretty cold at the beginning of May, but we found a way for me to frolic in the mud anyway. We built a fire in the cabin so I could go and warm up as soon as we were done, and we were quick. We had awesome amazing sex with my back arched and my feet on his shoulders, then we smeared dirt all over and took pictures.

I don’t normally like to get dirty, but something about mud is so intriguing. I didn’t feel naked while covered in blood, I felt armored – tough, primal, and bestial, but also vulnerable. Mud is eternal. Fucking in the mud tends to celebrate the things that I fear about sex:

It’s messy. I like sloppy sex, but I’m also fastidious about keeping everything clean. With mud, you can’t control the mess. I want to make sure that I feel dirty in a good way.

I’m exposed. Being naked outdoors is an experience that takes some getting used to. More than that, much like good sex, being covered in mud made me feel like my soul was showing.

I lose my sense of self. Usually I like letting go, but it can also be alarming. Wearing mud gave me moments of feeling other than human, but I also got to experience some kick-ass mojo.

I feel pretty earthy now. The dirt has certainly thawed and come alive. Spring is well sprung. I feel good with having done my part to quicken the earth, reveling in the May mud.

Winning a contest is fun, but winning a cool kinky sex toy is even better! I recently won one of Crystal Delights‘ giveaways. I didn’t know what they were going to send me, but it turns out it was a gorgeous glass butt plug with a real fur tail attached! I feel like such a lucky girl! I love this tail – just don’t call me a furry!

Furries are a community of people into anthropomorphic animals with human characteristics. Some furries also eroticize anthropomorphic animals and explore the sexual aspects of furridom. An animal tail butt plug lends itself perfectly to this type of play. I immediately want to put the tail in and romp around in the woods! I think that makes me a wild grrrl. It’s an interesting idea, but not what I’m into. Or is it?

Sure, Harold and I fought over who got to wear it first. It’s awesome. I’m only partially inclined to stick things in my ass and I thought it was cool. I can wag my tail! And it was incredibly comfortable. The glass is totally smooth and a great shape. It took me a couple of minutes to ease the plug into my ass, but it never felt bad. In fact, it was hardly noticeable once in place.

I did go out into the woods, in the cold, cold rain, to dance around. Then I curled up in front of the fire and snoozed, my tail wrapped around me. It didn’t feel sexual, exactly. It felt sensual. Primal and animal. Then I let Harold have a turn. That was a turn on – seeing Harold with a tail! It looks so real.

Neither of us had any problems inserting, wearing, or removing the Minx Plug. I did worry about how to clean my new tail. The pyrex plug washes right up with soap and water, but what about the fur? I found these instructions on the Crystal Delights website:

Give it a good home. Be sure it is not exposed to bright light while being stored, or isn’t kept near a heat source. Make sure it has room to breath and isn’t being crushed by other objects. Fur likes cold, hates heat. They don’t like friction. They don’t like chemicals. They like space.

Don’t cover your Crystal Minx tail with a bag. Your tail prefers air circulation, to prevent its leather side from drying. If you absolutely must keep it in a bag for a short period of time, be sure it is in a loosely woven cloth bag.

Avoid insecticides, mothproofing and other chemicals around your tail, including perfume or hairspray directly on your tail. Perfume contains alcohol, which can dry it out. Once a perfume gets into your tail, including cedar from a cedar chest it could be there to stay. Oils in the leather of your tail can become rancid and smell.

If your tail gets wet, don’t panic. Most tails handle snow and light rain with ease. Shake it out and hang it to dry in a well ventilated room. Resist the temptation to speed the drying process by using a hair dryer or hanging near a heat source. Your tail does not like heat. After it dries, shake it again. Do not comb or brush it. If its hairs are a little bristly, simply smooth them with your hand.

Do not store your tail in a freezer…bad idea.

Spot clean a stain at once with a cleaning solution and a rag. Pat the area with the rag rather than stroking it to avoid removing guard hairs. Hang to dry after the stain is removed.

Bring back the shine of the fur by drying oat bran or cornmeal and laying it in the fur. These substances soak up dirt and grime. Gently shake out the cornmeal and bran and shake the tail to loosen the rest of the substances.

Based on how much care my new tail needs and the inability to sterilize, I am unlikely to share it with anyone but Harold. It’s really a one person sex toy.

I’m really taken by this plug with tail. I’ve never tried anything like it, so I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I think it’s just amazing. I never would have thought to purchase a tail, which makes me doubly grateful for the opportunity to try this one out. Also, I have been very impressed with Crystal Delights quality and customer service so far. Winning this tail has been a great experience from one end to the other!

The only drawback to the tail, from my perspective, is that a real tail would come out at my tailbone. My rectum is too low. Even as I type this, I’m cracking up – no, I’m not a furry. I don’t care about how realistic it looks, right? Anyway, I don’t know what you would do to make a butt plug look like it came out higher. It’s not really a flaw, just my observation.

Bottom line: This beautifully made plug with tail makes me bounce with glee!

While Harold is gone for a few days, I am thinking a lot about him. I’m thinking about all of the really hot and sexy things we’ve done together and fantasizing about the things we haven’t done yet. The things that push us past our comfort, but turn us on like crazy. I want him so much. I want the things that scare us as well as all the lovely things that we enjoy together every time. I want everything. Today I am spinning a fantasy out of our desire, both tested and untried…

We are enjoying dinner together at our favorite restaurant. We’ve both dressed up a bit, as though for a special occasion. You’re laughing at something I’ve said. Your hand rests on top of mine. I look into your eyes and see how much you love me. I feel warm and happy. You smile and say, “I’m going to fuck you.”

I’m suddenly aware of the wetness between my legs. I press my palms against my legs. Through my napkin and my skirt I can feel my garter straps against my thighs. I want to touch my clit. I decide to go to the bathroom. You look at me with some amusement as I place my napkin on the table. “Bring me your panties,” you say, as though you know exactly what I’m thinking.

I’m a bit shocked, but also intrigued. I stand up carefully and step over to your side of the table. I bend to kiss you, aware that I am flashing the tops of my stockings to the gentlemen at the table behind us. It’s a long kiss, full of lust and tongue. After, I whisper in your ear, “You can have my panties, but only if you wear them.”

I sashay toward the restrooms. They are off a dim hallway, across from the abandoned coat-check. The ladies’ room is first and thankfully empty. I go in and lock the door. My hands run over my breasts and down my hips. I hike up my skirt and slide my fingers under my panties, finding my clitoris with my first two fingers. I lean against the door, breathing hard and thinking of how much I love you. My body is rigid, close to orgasm, when someone knocks on the door. Damn.

I quickly slide my underwear off and shove it in my purse. I smooth down my skirt. I flush the toilet for good measure. I wish that I were having an orgasm. I open the door. There’s no one there. Then I notice you back in the coats.

“You interrupted before I was done!” I accuse, but you don’t care. You press my back against the wall. Your hand holds the back of my neck, firm with your fingers in my hair. I want to argue, but I’m melting into you. I want you to kiss me so bad. But you don’t. Your other hand lightly traces my arm from bare shoulder to wrist. I’m pinned by your gaze. You cup my ass and pull me up against you. I can feel your erection. Finally you kiss me. I’m losing all sense of self. There is only this desire. And your tongue probing my mouth while you hold me tight.

You could fuck me right here and I would be happy, but I know that someone is bound to come by at any moment. Besides, I want to torment you some more. I grab hold of your balls through your slacks and squeeze. Your knees buckle a bit and you groan, but keep kissing me. I love you so incredibly much. I break off and push you back. “I have something for you Darling, “ I say as I pull my panties out of my purse, “Go put these on, I’ll take care of the check.”

You look at me for a moment, then take the lacy underwear and turn toward the men’s room. I’m waiting by the front door when you walk out. I wonder if anyone but me can tell that you are walking a little funny. I love knowing that you are secretly wearing my lingerie. I’m so turned on that each step to the car threatens to make me come.

Once in the car, you head for home. I’m quiet, thinking about who might get tied up when we get there. You put your hand on my knee, but it wanders up my thigh to my cunt. Soon my skirt is pulled up and once we’re on the freeway, your fingers are either buried in my cunt or rubbing my clit. I lean the seat back and let go. Soon I am moaning in pleasure as I finally find release, rocking against your hand. I watch as you lick your fingers.

Of course I’m going to return the favor. I unzip your pants and slip my hand inside, running my fingers over the hardness of your erection under the lace of my panties. I pull your cock out and pump up and down a few times, liking your reaction. I lean over and put my head in your lap. I lick the head of your cock, favoring the sensitive frenulum. Then I slowly take the whole thing in my mouth, as deep as it will go. I hope that you can still focus on driving, but I don’t want to wait until we get home.

I am focused on giving you the best blowjob ever, so I don’t notice at first that we are slowing down. When I pop my head up to see what’s going on, I’m not sure where we are. It appears to be a deserted dead-end road with a park. There’s only one streetlight, but the moon is full and bright. You drive to the end and park the car.

I think that we might just fuck here in the car, but you tell me to get out. You come around to my side of the car and carefully remove my heels, stockings, and garter belt. You kiss me again, deeply. “Now run,” you say.

I’m confused. Run? You nod toward the park and start to remove your own shoes. I laugh, perhaps with an edge of hysteria, and start to half-heartedly jog. After 20 paces I stop and look back. You are just removing your pants. I see you start after me and I run more seriously.

I race across the grass, dodging branches and ferns. I feel my limbs go liquid, so that I seem to be gliding across the ground. I feel animal. I am chased. I love it. You are a beast come to take me. I run deeper into the brush.

I’m not sure how you manage it, but you circle to the side and surprise me. You leap onto me, taking me down. We roll together, landing in a pile of leaves. You are on me instantly, flipping me face down and plunging your cock into me. We are both grunting and howling. I exist only for the thrill of each thrust, for the rhythm of our mating.

I feel you so deeply and intimately. I can tell your orgasm is building to match mine. We get closer and closer with each thrust. You are fucking me so hard. I love how wild and savage we are. Suddenly your yell fills the night and I am coming with you. We are rocking together with the fierce joy of the moment and declaring our passion for the world to hear. We have claimed each other and been taken.

We murmur soft lover’s words to each other as we pick leaves from our hair, animal grooming for animals in love. Slowly we find our feet again and make our way back to the car, arms wound around each other. We put our clothes back on, grinning at each other foolishly. We climb into the car and I think again about who gets tied up when we get home.

Today, instead of going jogging, I seduced my partner. This is what I get for deciding that running is a part of my sex life. It’s just that I got bored waiting for my child to be finished with the eye doctor. I started thinking sexy thoughts. I called my husband to tell him that I was lusting after him, but I won’t see him until tomorrow. I thought about sex all the way to meeting Harold for running, and I showed up in his office all on fire and ready for action.

I wanted rough sex – slamming into walls, nails raking flesh, wrestling for dominance, bites and slaps… I explained it all to Harold, straddling him in his desk chair. I could feel his interest. We kissed with some serious intent. My tongue thrust into his mouth, claiming him, making us both wild with desire. I held him by hair and throat. His fingers dug into my breasts, ass, hips. Here was my rough sex – open need speaking to open need.

We stood up, somehow thinking that we would go somewhere and maybe fuck, but we didn’t get far. My back was to him. His clothes seemed to disappear. He pulled my pants clean off. We kept hurting each other in delicious ways. I pressed his balls between my fingers, he pinched my nipples. Our hands and mouths were everywhere at once. We were suspended in tension and arousal, inflamed by the immediacy of our need. I take you NOW. I struggled out of my running shoes and I found myself totally naked, bent over, with Harold’s cock in my cunt. Perfect. He griped my hips, pulling me toward him with each thrust. I braced myself against a chair and the desk. I stared at our feet and the filing cabinets.

It was totally hot. I loved the physical struggle between us, the animal energy. I could feel that he enjoyed it too. He warned me that he was going to come and I laughed. Please come, please come, please! When the energy is working I want it to keep going to the natural climax. It feels so good. I like the raw spontaneous sex. And he came for a very long time, giving me time to catch up.

After we stopped shivering, I led Harold to the couch, where I sat on his lap. I looked into his face and had one of those rare moments when I catch a glimpse of the real person behind his eyes. I always feel like, oh, there you are! How often do you catch your lover in a totally unguarded moment? It’s a rare jewel. I treasure that glimpse and the transition from rough sex to gentle intimacy. Once I’ve claimed him physically, he’s mine, body and soul.

So maybe I should have gone running, but it’s hard to regret the seduction, some hot, hot sex, and a pure moment.

Sometimes I’m sick to death of doing the right thing. Fuck this thin veneer of proper, I need to let go! Forget about manners and polite conversation. Let go of worries, responsibilities, and obligations. Screw all of the “shoulds” and “should nots”. I am not a nice girl. Underneath it all, I’m wild.

My life works because I live my life in integrity. It’s an important part of who I am and I wouldn’t respect myself if I didn’t. I keep my brain engaged at all times – which is great, but really fucking exhausting. Through sex I find a safe way to relax and just exist. It’s somewhat paradoxical because it’s necessary to be incredibly ethical around sex, but if I manage it right, I’m in a position to be animal.

Living like an animal has it’s appeal – eat when hungry, sleep when tired, dance when happy, scream when angry, fuck when horny. I want to be wild in an animal way. Sometimes everything in sex just clicks and I exist in an animal state. But I have to be able to turn my brain off in order to just do whatever feels best in the moment. I have to be present, but not presenting. I have to trust myself and my partner (or partners).

Trust is the big key here. There are, of course, shadow sides to being animal wild. Animals fight or run away when cornered. That isn’t what I want. The state of being I’m after isn’t really about giving anything up. It’s about shifting perceptions and opening up to experience sex in a primal way, just in my body. Not trying to be anything for anybody. Not trying to be nice. Just trusting that I am good enough just as I am. Just trusting.

The rewards are huge. Everyone needs to be wild from time to time. Savage, fierce, intense, sex can be so healing – especially if you were taught as a child to be nice and keep those wild instincts under wraps. I choose to live in a complex family format with lots of complicated relationships. It takes a certain amount of work to maintain those relationships. Setting aside all of the right things I ought to do and engaging wild sex can give me a very simple human connection that recharges my batteries. And I need to be primal occasionally. Because I am so not nice.